User blog:Deathnote99/Chains of Evil Part 1 - Child of The Moon of Murder
It has been longer than I thought when I last speaking to a Human, however, This is an order, and I am here to make my confession. My name is Seran Agnaktor or I was known by a moniker "The Demon of Murder". Listen well, For I am here by no mere coincidence, The Father's orders are absolute. Firstly, Let me talk about my past. My life wasn't bad, but not something you would call pretty either, I was born out of a Couple of Farmers in the main continent, which I had a fulfilling, but not lavish, childbirth. I lived in, that by sheer luck, a land that has not been in a state of warfare for longer than I can count, not even a Status Quo had happened here. Just pure peace with I and my family steadfastly plowing our land. However, it was what you would expect from a normal farming family, with a half-wit that uses muscles only I am a little different from the others. Despite my black hair and cyan eyes that are rare among the natives, It was not the case. What I was exiled from my playgroups of children was my intelligence. Overlooking my ability among the village kids were the adults, they adored me, a Prepubescent that is not even 5 years old, as their savior. I had been forming systems for the farming that are more effective, carrying out a more bountiful harvests. Despite that fact however, The Village Chief abhorred me He had been among the most stubborn one among the elders, which they jestfully made a joke that if you hit him with a rock in the head, the rock will shatter. But, it is not my arrogance that he compelled upon, instead,He exclaimed "How can that small child be forced on that smarty labor !?" For some odd reason, the first sense of joy budded the first time into my life from that stubborn old man. When he first cradled me off the working table, I could feel compassion for the first time. When I turned 5, The Villagers celebrated my birthday together, like that they had been celebrating a birthday of a Saint, all to his suggestion. However, It all lasts for only a split second. As it turns to battle, the time I spent together with the warmth of family and people that loved me dissipated like a morning dew at the face of the sky. *** My Joy came from blood, my daily meal consists of a Sword, head and intestines. Being bathed in blood is nothing more than I could ask, which I will obey. But why I was unhappy when I was turned 10 you ask ? Very well, I shall elaborate. My distaste of warfare first came from when I turned to 9. In one of those peaceful days when I was joyfully writing my inspirations and perhaps more competent systems, a messenger from foreign lands came to us, riding a horse plated in a shiny golden armor. Naturally, those armors gave away a reason that they might not have ridden here only to inquire about this small village's health. They came to the village elder, which was at my side and rudely declared "Rejoice, commoners. The Holy Order has called upon your aid !" I could have groaned if I was able, without those swords duh. But in a twist of irony, instead of being afraid, I was taken in by that beautiful luster. Forged for perfection, I'd almost forgotten that they had the Village Elder on said sword point. I accepted a fist on my face for my touching of a mere sheath, threatening the village chief's off of his neck. However, someone that looked like a Chief tribe for them, his flaming red cape pleated to his back, looked at my doodles on the table. "How old is this boy ?" He asked, which The Chief confessed that I am about to turn nine. This man I call The Captain looked at his men with a mandating gaze, which sent their swords flying back to their scabbards. As they rode off, the chief has shaken in his boots along with the villagers that came because of the ruckus, They then looked at me as if pleading, but their eyes are mixing with both fear and pleading tears, as if they had lost something important. The true torment began when I turned 10 I remembered that I was akin to have had ascended. It was the time I was old and strong enough to wield a hoe, and was plowing my field using the manure and system I had developed. a cart that appears to not be intended for combat was escorted through the village's gate, baring escorts with a fierce and intimidating physique, I could do little to them when they galloped through my field, crushing my carrots I just planted. *** At this point, I realized how much a knowledge can bend a person's life throughout the cycle of Samsara. If you had knowledge, it is as if you hold power. and by Power, Many people are looking for it. If only I hadn't had this "Power", I would have been peacefully living in my village, growing old there, and buried there. But no crying over a spilled milk, my body is now scarred by countless spear marks, barely managing to come out with my life. Unfortunately, this incident couldn't be said without fruits. I had made many friends here although I just lost one. Mendez was a great man, his physique is muscular but he is not very bright. He was friendly and the kind that would easily make a living out there, if only he didn't take a spear to the heart instead of an arrow to the knee. My sense of dread blighted my sweet memories in this battlefield where no paddy grew, replaced by an iron smell of blood and thorny vines that came from The Demonic Dryads. It was once said that even if your leading actor is brave, Fear still took root in your subordinates hearts. I ran into random tents, or rather, the safest place I knew, looking for a refuge inside a Container. The straw inside gave me a quick sense of nostalgia. The Chandelier that is placed atop the table gave a serene light, but to me, it gave an unnatural sense of fear akin to a Criminal waiting for Execution. I was then found one even worse. My eyes were almost blinded by the golden armor and the fiery cape but I managed to burn that face into my memory, along with his cruel statements. He explained to his subordinates that it is fine to turn in more conscripts and have them become meat shields, followed by an hearty laugh with his wine-smelling breath. My flaming hatred ignited for the first time, combined with my "Power", I left that tent once they had drunk themselves asleep. *** TBH Category:Blog posts